


Empty Bottles

by Stralovat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Victorian England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stralovat/pseuds/Stralovat
Summary: One ShotAndrew Parker is a former PI who lost everything after a certain case. He gets another chance to regain his reputation and life after a visit from a noble.





	Empty Bottles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feifong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feifong/gifts).



           Startled awake by the sound of clinking bottles at the foot of his bed, Andrew squinted at the sun rays shining in through his broken window. He glanced at his wrist for the time only to stare at the watch shaped tan, remembering the shillings he got for pawning his dead father’s memento. It didn’t mean much to him, the Parker family heirloom was worth near nothing, not even worth a day of drinking. Andrew dragged himself out of bed and limped towards the door, he couldn’t remember the last time he woke up sober.

           Andrew walked into his favorite pub, it sold the cheapest booze in town and he kept a tab there. Sitting at the counter, he gestured at the bartender and received an ale. Creaking floorboards revealed an extremely well dressed woman, a rather unusual sight within these parts of town. Andrew took a look at the new visitor and finished the rest of his drink, he checked his pockets for coins and gestured for another drink. The woman watched him with a glimmer of recognition in her eyes and walked towards him. She wrinkled her nose at the interior of the pub with its uneven chairs and scarred wooden table, but sat down at the bar counter next to Andrew regardless.

           “Good evening, you must be Andrew Parker. My name is Mia Devereaux and I want to hire your services as a PI. I was told you're the best,” she said.

           “I don’t know if I must be Andrew Parker, but you’re looking for the wrong person. I don’t accept jobs anymore. Find someone else,” Andrew grunted.

           Mia held her breath, unfazed by the rejection, she gestured for a drink. “But, everyone tells me you’re the best person for this job. Please help me, I will pay anything you want,” pleaded Mia. Her brows furrowed, and her lips set in a tight line.

           Andrew snorted, “If you can offer to pay anything then you can afford to look for someone else to be your PI. I’m retired.”

           Mia inhaled a sharp breath. Even though she prepared herself for it, she was still shocked at the blunt response, especially from a man of Andrew Parker’s status. She slumped her shoulders, but quickly straighten her posture. Andrew took a long glance at the woman seated besides him. Her youthful eyes burned with intensity and purpose. Andrew knew she wouldn’t stop until he agreed to help, but Andrew wasn’t lying. He did stop working as a Private Investigator. His specialty was art retrieval and he regularly worked with nobles to recover their stolen art pieces. He retired at the tender age of 35 after being shot through the knee while tracking down an art thief. The art thief got away, the noble family that hired him lost about 5 million guinea of art, and he lost his reputation. This bankrupted his agency.

           Andrew thought the case seemed suspicious, so he investigated the case further and discovered the thief was hired by the family to pretend to steal the art. The art pieces in question were already sold on the black market to pay off the family’s debt and the theft was just a cover story to protect their image. The thief disappeared after the incident, but Andrew suspected that the thief was swimming at the bottom of the Thames river. With his only witness missing, Andrew had no evidence against the family, not even Scotland Yard could help him.

           Chased by debt collectors at every corner, Andrew turned to alcohol as the only means of escaping reality. After numbing himself for so long, the thought of working as a PI again both frightened and excited him. Andrew scoffed at the idea of being a tool for the nobility again.

           Mia Devereaux was the youngest of five siblings from a line of French nobility. It was public knowledge that the late Earl’s marriage was a political ploy to strengthen the England-France allegiance. So, it’s not news that the late Earl would leave a fortune behind for his children.

           Andrew rubbed his fatigued eyes, “Fine, you have until I finish this drink, tell me about your case.”

           “My father omitted the location of his most prized treasure in the will and the first of his children to find it would inherit it. Since I am the youngest, my father left very little money for me to live comfortably, so I must find the treasure first. My older brothers and sisters all hired the best detectives and Private Investigators, but it’s been months and the treasure is still missing. So, you are my last hope. Please, help me track it down and I will reward you handsomely,” Mia smiled confidently.

           Andrew contemplated, “tell me more about this treasure.”

           Mia smirked and leaned in, “The treasure is a wedding gift from King George, it represents a tentative union between the French and English. Apparently, the gift was a jewelry box encrusted with rare gems and priceless jewels. If I get my hands on that treasure, my dowry is set and I will live lavishly for the rest of my life.”

           Andrew polished off his drink, slammed a couple of coins on the table, and headed towards the door. Mia startled by the sudden movements faltered back, she had not expected this behavior from the rumoredly mild manner PI. Mia clutched the sleeves of Andrew’s worn out coat and flinched as he shrugged off her gloved hands. She gripped the shoulders of the aged man, digging in her nails this time, “Please reconsider. If you do make a decision, come to the back door of the Devereaux Manner and knock three times, my maid will let you in.” Her once prideful posture dissolved into desperate begging.

           Andrew stormed out of the quiet pub and staggered into the bustling crowd. He took a long swig of whisky from his flask and scuffled his lame leg on the pavement. The idea of being a PI again was extremely appealing, he could finally pay off his debts and live without the fear of being chased by debt-collectors again. Andrew chuckled in disdain, wondering why he bothered thinking about the offer from a noble when it was a noble who ruined his reputation. The idea of working for one again made his skin crawl, but this type of high profile case could help restore his reputation. He could reopen his agency again. It was all wishful thinking.

           Andrew wandered through familiar streets, his feet took him down a path he’d walked everyday for years. He stopped in front of a closed office building with broken windows and a dented door. Andrew hadn’t been back since the day it closed over five years ago. The successful agency with over ten employees started from just a dream. He poured his entire life savings into and spent years building up connections, gone faster than he could save it. His employees and their families depended on him to provide for their livelihoods, but he was forced to let them go when job offers stopped coming in. He wondered if it could've been avoided if he never accepted jobs from nobility. He doubted his abilities to continue as a PI after the agency bankrupted. He worked miscellaneous jobs to try to regain his confidence, but they failed miserably.

           He paused to look at an advertisement of his agency on the pavement. His youthful, energized face stared back at him. Rubbing his overgrown beard, he picked up the advertisement. He wanted to be excited about life and work cases again, like the old days. The thought of working this case sent thrills down his spine and it ignited a flame in his chest. Andrew took his flask out to take a celebratory drink, hesitated, and looked back to the paper in his hand. In one swift moment, he emptied the contents of the bottle onto the pavement and discarded the last remnants of his uncertainty.

           Shoving the paper in his pockets, he advanced toward the busy main street again. This time with a destination in mind. Andrew arrived at a well maintained garden leading up to a humble servants door. He took a deep breath and knocked, enthusiastic about the future once more.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Feifong for being my beta, couldn't happen without you <3


End file.
